


The Woman, And The Other Woman, And The Two Men Who Fell To Earth

by spideyandstark



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aggressive handholding, F/F, Fluff, Gay, also so is yaz, doctor: accidentally causes a mini explosion because of this, fellas i am VERY gay for 13, i'll stop talking now, like pre-rosa, this is kinda canon compliant, when they said they failed to go back to sheffield 14 times, yaz and the doctor are hopeless lesbians, yaz: touches the doctor's hair once, you think i'm joking but that happens in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-18 17:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16521506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideyandstark/pseuds/spideyandstark
Summary: The Doctor thinks it's very rude of her TARDIS to crash while she's trying to impress Yasmin Khan.The TARDIS, quite frankly, thinks the Doctor shouldwoman upand ask her out already.(Or - they're stranded in 1928, the Doctor's injured, and Yaz maybe sort of makes her two hearts flutter.)





	1. Chapter 1

The TARDIS rumbles and blares, the Doctor yelling over the apparent vulgarities streaming from the glowing core. She leans towards a lever near the back of the console just as the time ship lurches again, sending her sprawling back against the railings where her companions are holding on for dear life. Yaz instinctively grabs the Doctor’s hand to steady her. 

A flicker of something old and vaguely non-human appears in the furrows of the Doctor’s brow. She pauses, short-circuits like the console she’s trying to control. Then the whirring starts again and she hollers a quick, “Thanks Yaz!” before throwing herself back into the action.

Yaz swallows thickly and grabs the railing again. It mingles with the lingering warmth of the Doctor’s hand.

“No problem,” she murmurs, voice drowned by the flashing of sirens.

“Right, got some bad news,” the Doctor shouts across her shoulder. “We might be in for a bit of a bumpy landing.”

“Just a bit?” yells Graham, as the TARDIS jolts again. His fingers curl around Ryan’s shoulder.

“Look Graham, I’m doing the best I can!” The Doctor grits her teeth and shoves a lever upwards, movements jarred and frustrated. “Come on, girl-”

Another fierce tremble. Yaz loses her footing and barely grips hold of the railing in time. When she does, she becomes acutely aware of the Doctor’s worried gaze pinioned in her direction; she smiles briefly and flashes her a thumbs up.

“Both hands on the railing,” says Ryan, with a knowing smirk.

Yaz feels her cheeks heat up. “Alright, alright.”

“Doc, where are we even going?” 

The Doctor rushes about the console, pressing and pulling and pushing, vision half-obscured by thick strands of blonde. She lurches a lever into place with an air of finality and turns quickly to the others, one hand curled around the edge of the console.

“Guess we’ll see the answer to that in a minute. You lot hold onto each other, and the railing. _Don’t_ let go.”

Yaz feels Ryan and Graham move closer together, Ryan’s free hand around her waist in a friendly offering of support. She watches the Doctor, free and unprotected, as she makes a final attempt to soften the landing.

“Doctor!” Yaz calls. “What about y-”

There’s a splitting crash and a series of great, gaping tumults, like an earthquake in the police box, and Yaz is holding onto the railing so hard it hurts, body jolting arrhythmically. Her eyes are squeezed shut. She hears Ryan screaming by her ear.

Then it stops.

They’re tilted on an angle, and - thankfully - protected by the railing. Yaz opens her eyes to thick smoke billowing from the TARDIS’ core. The silence now seems almost deafening.

She looks across to Ryan and Graham. Ryan seems unscathed, perhaps with the exception of a few bruises from the railing. He’s helping Graham to his feet. The older man looks shaken, but Yaz can’t see any injuries.

She jolts upwards in shock. “Doctor?”

Graham, now standing with a hand on his lower back, looks around too. “Doc?”

Yaz is just about to attempt to cross the TARDIS on its slope when she hears a faint gasp and a sudden: “Everyone - alright?”

“We’re fine,” says Ryan, as both Yaz and Graham nod. 

“Are you okay, Doctor?” 

“Yeah. Think so.” There’s some scuffling at the bottom of the TARDIS and a barely audible crash. “Whoops.”

“Doctor?” Yaz asks again, unconvinced. She looks at Ryan.

“I’m fine! No need to come down here,” the Doctor answers a bit hastily. As the smoke thins, Yaz sees her reaching for the console, attempting to read their whereabouts. Intentionally or otherwise, the Doctor’s expression is hidden behind the screen.

“Alright, well, we’re coming down,” says Ryan. “Bit boring up here.”

“Oi,” says Graham. 

“Sorry gran- _Graham,”_ Ryan coughs.

Yaz sees Graham freeze. He grips the railing so hard his knuckles are white, despite the TARDIS laying stock-still now. Ryan’s cheeks tinge ochre. 

“What did you say, son?”

“I coughed,” says Ryan. “On the smoke.”

Yaz, decidedly awkward, sinks down to her knees and makes her way carefully down the slope towards the Doctor.

“Are you alright?” she asks again, under the embarrassed murmur of Ryan’s words.

The Doctor is standing on tiptoes, brow furrowed as she scans the Gallifreyan on the little screen.

Yaz frowns as she doesn’t answer. “What is it?”

“Oh!” The Doctor blinks as if snapped from a trance. “Sorry. Got distracted. Let’s see.” She focuses on the words this time, tapping a finger against the console as she reads. “Sheffield.”

“We’re home?” Yaz exclaims, glancing at the tilted door of the TARDIS.

“Right place,” the Doctor frowns. “Wrong time.”

“What year?”

The Doctor squints a little. “Nineteen twenty… eight. I think. Does that look like an eight to you?”

“Sorry, I can’t read that language,” says Yaz.

“Right! Of course. Stupid. I mean, me. Not you. You’re very smart.”

“Doctor.” Yaz crosses her arms. “You’re not alright.”

“What? Course I am. Look at this.” The Doctor holds up her hand, uncurls three fingers in a bold display. “See that? Three fingers. I’m great.”

“That’s because you’re the one holding them up!”

“Well of course I am,” she scoffs. “What else am I supposed to do, hold up your fingers?”

“Yes, actually, _I’m_ supposed to-”

The Doctor suddenly reaches out and entwines her hand quite aggressively in Yaz’s. She raises it, not taking note of the way the sentence dies on Yaz’s lips. Well, maybe a little. Only the lips part.

“Five fingers,” says the Doctor numbly, then she releases Yaz and turns back to the console.

Graham and Ryan have joined them quietly in the back, tension static and palpable, like the settling dust. The Doctor fumbles with a few loose wires, focus swimming between Yaz’s dumbfounded expression and a sharp pain on her head.

Quietly, Yaz says, “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” says the Doctor.

Grateful for the distraction, Ryan wanders over to stand at the Doctor’s other side and shrugs. “Don’t look like nothing to me.”

Her hand moves subconsciously to the back of her head to cover the injury, fingers flinching at the feel of a little blood.

“This is annoying,” she says, shifting rather suddenly to her usual enthusiasm, “New hair, absolute nightmare to wash. How do you do it, Yaz? Two weeks ago I could get out the shower and it’d be dry in ten minutes, now-”

“Doctor,” Yaz says sharply. “Let me-”

“Nothing that hasn’t happened before. You think she’s never crashed?” says the Doctor, turning to Yaz. 

“Well - no, but-”

“It’s fine. Come on. Shall we try and put the TARDIS back on its - oh, what’s the thing!”

“Base?” says Ryan.

The Doctor snaps her fingers dramatically. “Yes! Base. Did I tell you you’re very smart, Ryan? Let’s go, gang.”

“Doctor-” Yaz starts, but the woman is already at the door of the TARDIS. 

“It’s no use,” says Ryan. “At least not till this is fixed.”

“Ryan’s right,” Graham says. Ryan has moved on after the Doctor, anxious for space between him and his _almost-called-grandad._ Graham smiles and squeezes Yaz’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Yaz. I’m sure she’ll let you fuss after we’re back on track.”

“I’m not fussing,” says Yaz indignantly.

“If you say so.” There’s a twinkle in Graham’s eye as he walks past. Something born in aging, she thinks. 

Something born in aging. Yaz thinks of a hazel glow. A mind traced with stardust.

 

(A woman who fell to Earth.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love my disaster gays


	2. Chapter 2

“This is pointless,” says Ryan, as Yaz wanders round to the side of the TARDIS. “It’s stuck.” 

The Doctor is standing with her ear pressed to the side of the blue box. Her eyes are drawn to the sky. There are words on her lips that Yaz can’t read. 

Finally she takes a step back. “Right. One more shot, give it your all, Ryan!”

Both the Doctor and Ryan lean against the box; Ryan pressing his hands against it, the Doctor leaning backwards, shoulders against the wood; then they push back together, teeth gritted in concentration. 

Ryan finally drops his hands to his sides. “It won’t budge.”

“Can you do anything with the big light thingy?” says Graham. “Inside?”

The Doctor sinks down against the wall and sits cross-legged on the ground. “Yeah,” she sighs. “Probably.” 

“Doctor?” Yaz drops to her knees in front of her. 

“Sorry,” says the Doctor, gesturing vaguely to all of them. “We shouldn’t be here. I’ll get us back. Promise.” 

“Well, don’t lose hope,” Yaz says. “What do you need? We can help you.” 

The Doctor locks eyes with Yaz, deep and wise and _sparkling._ Her throat feels dry. Yaz becomes startlingly aware of Graham and Ryan behind them. 

“You’re the best, Yaz, you know that?” The Doctor grins, poking her shoulder. “Absolutely brilliant, you. My star.” 

Despite the Doctor’s banterous tone, Yaz feels a warm blush creep up her cheeks, and laughs nervously, and tucks her hair behind her ear. 

“Right, gang!” the Doctor says, finally drawing her gaze away from Yaz. She stands up, brushing off her coat and twirling her screwdriver in her hand. “Let’s get a shift on!” 

Yaz smiles as the Doctor races back inside the TARDIS. 

“How’d you do that?” asks Ryan. 

Yaz snaps out of her thoughts. “Do what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely. “Dunno. Cheer her up again. You fixed the Doctor.”

“She wasn’t broken,” says Yaz, quietly. “Just needed some guidance.” 

“Friend guidance?” starts Ryan. “Or -“

“I think she’s calling us now,” says Yaz quickly, playfully punching Ryan’s arm before disappearing inside the police box. The young man rolls his eyes and follows. 

“Right,” the Doctor’s voice is muffled from beneath the console. “I’m gonna need some parts.”

“What sorts of parts?” says Graham. 

She slips out from beneath the core and an onslaught of tangled wires follow. The Doctor pushes her thick goggles up onto her forehead. “More wires. Also, can you get me some jelly babies?” 

“S’pose,” says Graham. “Where can we find them?”

“Alright,” says the Doctor, “Ryan - down that corridor, third door on the left, there’re spare wires. And Graham, in the room after that there are sweets.” 

“What should I do?” asks Yaz.

“You wait here with me,” says the Doctor, slipping her sonic between her teeth as she moves back under the console. Ryan and Graham head down their respective corridors. “N’d you t’ pass m’ st’ff!”

“What?” Yaz murmurs, crouching low on the ground. 

There’s a spark of light as the Doctor jabs two loose wires together. Then she spits out her screwdriver and says, “I need you to pass me stuff. Like my sonic. That I just spit out.” 

The younger woman starts laughing. She reaches carefully under the console and grabs the device and moves it carefully towards the Doctor’s face. She can’t see her lips exactly, but the thought of them there makes her heart race. 

“Am I close?” she says quietly. 

“Little lower!”

Yaz does what she’s told and the Doctor grabs the screwdriver with her teeth again and says, “Th’nks!”

“No problem,” Yaz says idly. Her hand stops as she starts to draw it back, tangling gently in the Doctor’s blonde hair. The Doctor’s surprise emerges in the form of another impromptu flash of light.

Yaz jolts out of her thoughts and pulls her hand away, eyes wide with realisation. The silence draws in, reverberating in the walls of the TARDIS. She hears the Doctor clear her throat as she rips a faulty wire from the core.

She decides to change the subject. “Need anything?”

The Doctor spits out her sonic. “Hand.”

“What?”

“Your hand. I need you to hold something for me.”

Tentatively, Yaz extends her hand under the console. The Doctor slips a box-like object into her palm, pushes it shut, and her touch lingers; warm and light as a zephyr and tingling with regenerative energy. Yaz doesn’t see any more sparks but she feels them along her skin.

“Doctor?” Her voice cracks.

“Cheers Yaz,” the Doctor says quickly. Her fingers retreat. “Great helper, you are. Just hold onto that.”

Yaz keeps her hand curled around the box, her pulse thumping through her head. “Okay.”

“Graham and Ryan are right slowpokes, aren’t they?” the Doctor frowns, finally slipping out from under the console. Yaz moves aside to make room, nodding her agreement; her mouth feels too dry to formulate any proper response.

“Oh!” says the Doctor suddenly, remembering the box in Yaz’s hand. “I’ll take that now, thank you.” 

Yaz nods again. She passes the device, watches the Doctor’s spark of concentration falter just momentarily as she brushes over Yaz’s hand, before she crawls back under the console to reattach it.

“What is it, anyway?” says Yasmin, crossing her legs.

“Oh, y’know,” the Doctor waves her free hand, “the TARDIS’ heart.”

A heart in her hands. Yaz bobs her head, tucks her knees up against her chest and says: “That’s… really extraordinary.”

“It is a bit, isn’t it,” says the Doctor, eyes sparkling excitedly as she emerges from the wiring. “Not many people she lets touch that. You’re very special, Yaz.”

Yaz wonders if the Doctor sees the sparks flying in her frenzied mind. It wouldn’t surprise her. She clears her throat and occupies herself with flattening a barely visible wrinkle in her shirt. 

“So are you,” she murmurs.

“Me? I’m just...”

“A traveller?” Yaz supplies.

“Yeah, exactly!” the Doctor rambles, “And you’re Yasmin Khan!”

“So?”

“So! Are you kidding! You’re brilliant. A police officer - I’ve never travelled with a police officer before! - and you’re smart and brave and kind and absolutely gorgeous -”

The Doctor’s sonic screwdriver clatters to the ground. She scoops it up and straightens quickly, hearts pounding at the dumbfounded look on Yaz’s face.

“I mean,” she tries, “humans. They’re - very nice. To look at. In general, I think. Not that you’re a general - representation of your kind…” She looks around, semi-desperate, and leaps to her feet at the approaching footsteps from the corridor. “Oh, look, it’s Ryan and Graham! Absolute lifesavers, these two. Although it took you long enough!”

“Sorry Doc,” says Graham, “we got a bit lost.”

Ryan dumps a handful of thick wires by the console. _“Second_ corridor,” he says, “and _fifth_ room.”

The Doctor scrunches her nose. “Oh, sorry. Forgot she redecorated.”

“Well, these were in the same place,” says Graham, handing her a yellow sweets packet.

“Oh, brilliant! D’you want one, Graham? These are absolutely superb.” 

“I do live on earth, Doc,” smiles Graham. “Go on, give ‘em to the kids.”

“Hey!” says Ryan indignantly. He takes a sweet.

Yaz is still gazing at the space between the console and the Doctor’s head, the words rolling over continuously in her mind; a broken record, electricity brushing her knuckles, lips that have touched angels and stardust and are _gorgeous-_

“Hello, earth to Yaz,” Ryan smirks, waving a hand in her face. “What are you daydreaming about?”

“Jelly babies,” says Yaz, blindly reaching into the packet. “They really are something special.”

Through a mouthful of sweets, the Doctor exclaims: _“That’s what I’m saying!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments make me happy!!! also did i mention i am very very gay for thirteen


	3. Chapter 3

It’s far into the night when the Doctor finishes working on the TARDIS. She slips out from beneath the console, hair static, goggles leaving ashen imprints around the lenses when she removes them. 

“There,” she announces, “are you happy now?”

The TARDIS’ core flashes with a series of quick yellow lights. 

“Distracted?” The Doctor exclaims, raising a hand. “I was _not_ distracted!”

It flickers again indignantly.

“Well, what good did _you_ do? You’re meant to be able to fix yourself.”

The TARDIS responds with unearthly silence. The Doctor sinks down against the console, half-smiling. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

She stays like that for several minutes, head tilted back against the control panel, fingers spread wide against the bare ground. Eventually, the console lights up once more. Quick, and almost missable. A wink in the dark.

The Doctor sits upright. _“Yaz?_ What about Yaz?”

The console flashes again.

“Oh, shut up. You know I can’t- _Yasmin!”_

She scrambles to her feet and leans casually against the console as a pyjama-clad Yaz wanders aimlessly out from one of the corridors. She grins, hair bed-mussed and expression soft with sleep. The TARDIS makes a knowing sort of sound; the Doctor elbows the panel and winces. 

“You okay?” says Yaz, stepping towards her. 

“Fine! Absolutely fantastic. Funny bone,” the Doctor adds, deciding to simply _ignore_ the TARDIS’ next mocking outburst. Her tone turns serious. “Can’t sleep?”

“Well, kind of,” Yaz shrugs. “But I figured you’d still be up, so I thought I’d give you company.” 

Something warm and bright, like the colour orange, spreads through the Doctor’s chest at that. 

“Well,” she smiles. “Thanks, Yaz, but you can go back to bed. I’ve just finished.” 

“Are _you_ going to bed?”

The Doctor makes a habit of darting around the console, examining random buttons with slightly more vivacity than necessary. “Of course. Everyone goes to bed. Except species that don’t." She frowns, flicking distractedly at a lever. "But you asked me if _I’m_ going to bed. And I will. At some point. Custard cream?”

The Doctor lightly pushes her shoe onto the aforementioned pedal. A custard cream pops out of the dispenser.

“You have it,” grins Yaz, leaning down to adjust her slippers. 

The Doctor gratuitously seizes the opportunity to keep her mouth shut.

“You know,” says Yaz, wandering over to the console and fiddling idly with a vacant button. She grins. “I can see how you fell out of your TARDIS.”

The Doctor’s hand moves suddenly over Yaz’s. The younger woman looks up in surprise. 

“Oh - sorry,” the Doctor says, suddenly very aware of the way Yaz’s hand feels under her own. She drops her hand by her side. “Habit. You know. Ryan.” 

“Ah,” is all Yaz can find the breath to say. 

The Doctor drums her fingers against the console, jittery in the silence. Quickly she perks up, eyes wide as she meets Yaz’s. “Want to see something cool?”

“Always,” Yaz smiles. 

“Correct answer." She's met with a friendly elbow-nudge. "Knew I did good choosing you as my favourite.”

It’s a throwaway comment. Yaz is sure the Doctor loves Ryan’s unending kindness and Graham’s sarcastic wit as much as she likes Yaz, for whatever indiscernible reason. But as the Doctor darts around the console, fingers igniting life in the solitary police box, Yaz likes to imagine that she means it. 

“Right, hold on!” the Doctor grins, directing Yaz’s hand to the railing. This time, she doesn’t let go. 

The TARDIS is noticeably smoother this time - still rocky, still whirring, but maybe not enough to wake Ryan and Graham just yet. The Doctor laughs and pulls Yaz along with her around the console, encouraging her to fly. 

Yaz doesn’t know where they’re going but maybe the journey - in all its breathless vivacity, a smooth flight alongside the Doctor, her hands moving expertly over Yaz’s and lingering just a moment more than necessary - is better. 

But the Doctor surprises her again. 

“We’re here!” she enthuses, releasing Yaz’s hand as the TARDIS quiets to a slow, tranquil halt. The lights from the core dim as the Doctor runs over to the door and yanks it open. 

Yaz follows more slowly. She looks at the console as the lights go low, and asks: “Is it saying something?”

The Doctor whips around and clasps her hands together behind her back and stands teetering on her tiptoes on the border between the TARDIS and open space. Her face flushes. “Oh no, nothing. Ignore her. Lights up, please.”

The TARDIS doesn’t comply. 

_“Oh, you’re a right piece of_ \- anyway, Yaz, come look at this.” 

Yaz stops, not quite at the Doctor’s proximity to the edge, but close enough to look out into the darkness, and see a constellation glimmering in white iridescence. 

“Wow,” Yaz whispers. “What’s it called?”

“Constellation _Comitibus,”_ says the Doctor. Yaz is surprised at the uncertainty in her tone. “Do you like it? The name, I mean.”

“It’s great,” says Yaz. She asks jokingly: “Why, did _you_ name it?”

“Yep,” is all the Doctor says.

Yaz looks across at her, expecting her eyes to crinkle into a smile. But the Doctor stares out into the darkness, and maybe it’s a trick of the stardust or the soft light emitted from the console behind them but Yaz swears she sees a tear trace its way down her cheek. 

Yaz takes her hand, locks their fingers together, cold and warm and dust and blood and stardust. 

“What does the name mean?”

The Doctor finally smiles, wiping at her face with her sleeve and gazing brilliantly into the distant starlight. “Companions.” 

She traces the orbs of light and pauses with magnanimous indication to the closest star, smile widening into something more playful. “That’s Yasmin!”

“You’re joking!”

“Course not!” says the Doctor, pointing to the two adjacent stars. “That’s Ryan, that’s Graham.”

“Oh my _god,”_ Yaz giggles. 

“D’you like it?” the Doctor asks, looking quite easily away from the spectacle in favour of Yaz’s face. 

“It’s brilliant,” Yaz breathes, still looking out. _“You’re_ brilliant.”

There’s a moment, Yaz thinks, when she draws her gaze away from galaxies and constellations, and finds them, deeper and stronger and swirling with passion, in the Doctor’s eyes. And there’s a moment, right afterwards, where she closes the space between them and pushes a kiss to the Doctor’s lips, heart pounding with terror and exhilaration amongst a vacuumous backdrop, stardust burning behind closed eyelids. 

The Doctor cups her face softly and melts into the kiss, and the TARDIS glows warm with orange and pink. 

“Sorry,” Yaz breathes, pulling back in shock. 

The Doctor purses her lips, tilts her head with a curious expression. “For what?”

“For…” Yaz trails off, gesturing awkwardly. 

“Wait. Sorry. Don’t understand. I liked it.” The Doctor nods. “A lot.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Yaz feels like she’s burning, but not with fire, something like-

_stardust._

The Doctor suddenly looks at her, nose scrunched up. “I mean, did _you_ like it? I’ve never kissed anyone as a woman.” 

Yaz bursts out laughing. “It was - fantastic.”

The Doctor grins in relief, and Yaz takes her hand - confidently, this time - thumb pressed against erratic dual pulses; and somehow they’re tucked away, in some tiny, undiscovered corner of the universe, _together._

The stars burn brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can y'all BELIEVE i finished a multi-chapter fic for once i'm shook
> 
> i will definitely be returning to these gays stay tuned


End file.
